With Flaming Sword
by Tetsubinatu
Summary: After Merlin and Arthur are captured by a rogue knight Merlin reveals his powers to save them both. WARNINGS: Adult concepts. V. mild Merlin/Arthur slash.


They'd been on a hunting trip, curled up asleep under the protective canopy of a beech tree, when they'd been taken. They'd woken to knives at their throats and not a chance of escape.

As the sun rose Merlin could make out Arthur's shining hair among the riders ahead. He was tied to his horse, surrounded by mounted soldiers, while Merlin stumbled behind, roped to a cart which appeared to hold booty and supplies.

They stopped at a river crossing when the sun showed it was midmorning. The horses were watered by thin, dirty servants while the unknown knight and his entourage were served a nuncheon. Merlin watched to see if Arthur was fed, and he was. The leader personally cut hunks of bread and cheese and fed them to Arthur on the point of his knife as Merlin watched with narrowed eyes.

A ragged boy crouched beside Merlin, pressing a heel of bread into his bound hands. "Better eat while you can," he said quietly. He followed Merlin's eyes to Arthur and the unknown knight. "Does your master value you?" he asked.

Merlin wasn't prepared to trust a stranger, but he did need information. "He's good to his people," he said vaguely. "Who's that with him?"

"Sir Malvent," the boy answered shortly.

"Will he ransom us, do you think?" Merlin asked.

There was something about the boy's face that Merlin couldn't quite parse as he thought about the question. "Your master will be ransomed," he said.

"What about me?" Merlin felt a wave of panic rise in his chest.

"I don't know." The boy looked scared. "Will your master do as he is told without arguing?"

Merlin shook his head with a wry twist of his lips. "The only person he ever obeys without arguing is his father - and not always him."

The boy's face showed that this was bad news. "Um... if you get the chance you might want to warn him then," he said. "My master will order him to ... do something unpleasant... or you'll be killed, and then if he refuses you'll be a dead man. No arguing, you see. After that they always believe he'll do what he says."

"What does he want?"

But the boy merely dropped his eyes and scuttled away.

Merlin looked at Sir Malvent's eyes, fixed on Arthur, and had a very bad feeling.

* * *

The cavalcade turned off the main road after the ford, following a dusty track up into the hills. They stopped again at noon. Merlin was dusty and aching. The cart had raised dust along every stretch of the track and Merlin, following in the cart's wake, had been engulfed by it. He fell to the ground coughing until he thought he was going to throw up.

A flask of water was pressed to his lips and he gratefully swallowed. It was the same boy he saw when he looked up.

"Thanks! I'm Merlin, by the way," he said. He flopped onto his back.

The boy looked down at him, re-sealing the water. "Bryn," he said.

Merlin closed his eyes, catching his breath. There was no sound of the boy moving away. "What does he want, Bryn?"

Bryn sat next to him. "He would never touch the prisoners," he said.

Merlin's mouth tightened. His heart-rate accelerated, but he kept his eyes closed.

"He would feel himself dishonoured to do that. But to make the prisoners touch each other," his voice dropped, "while he watched..."

The silence stretched out. Merlin didn't see the difference himself, but the nobility had odd notions.

"It doesn't help that your master looks like... _that_," Bryn added. Merlin opened his eyes and looked. Arthur looked as he always did - and that was heartstoppingly gorgeous at the worst of times. When the light hit him right he looked like the Archangel Gabriel minus his flaming sword.

Merlin had to get him out of here.

* * *

After the midday meal the procession rose again. They were moving into wild country now, presumably heading for Sir Malvent's stronghold. Merlin waited for a moment when no-one was looking at him and cast the strongest distraction spell he could remember on himself before severing the ropes around his wrists. The rope lead dropped into the dust behind the cart as he broke free.

Merlin looked around. No-one seemed to have noticed. Slowly, casually, so as not to draw attention he quickened his pace to move forward past the cart and through the crowd of riders. When he was at Arthur's stirrup he touched Arthur's boot. Arthur kicked idly, still without looking at him. Merlin knocked on the upper of the boot purposefully: _one two three_. That was enough; Arthur looked down and his eyes opened wide.

Merlin put a finger to his mouth.

"When I walk away from you, start to drop back," he said quietly. "Don't draw any attention. When you're out of sight, move as fast as you can. I'll meet you where they caught us."

Arthur's face was wearing its 'Merlin you idiot' expression. Merlin just hoped that it wasn't for the last time. He looked up at Arthur, his eyes glowing gold, and the ropes dropped from Arthur's wrists.

Quietly, firmly, Merlin cast the distraction spell on Arthur and his horse, nodded farewell and drifted off to the side of the track. When he was in the shadows of a copse he stopped and watched the road.

A rider, golden hair glossy in the sunlight, was gradually drifting through the pack until he was at the tail of the cavalcade. He stopped, well behind the others and waited until the rest of the procession rode over the crest of a hill and out of sight.

"Move, you prat," Merlin whispered, and as if it had heard him the figure wheeled around and galloped out of sight.

* * *

When he came in sight of their last camp Merlin was weary. He'd used his magic to give him a straight path across the hills, but it hadn't been any easier than the road, although it was quite a lot shorter.

Arthur wasn't there.

Riding, he should have reached the camp long before Merlin could get there on foot. Merlin had to face the fact that he had been abandoned.

At least - he hoped he had; the alternative was that Arthur had been caught, and that would mean that Merlin would have to go looking for him again.

"Dammit, Arthur, if you've been caught," he sighed.

"If I've been caught, what?" Arthur asked, stepping from behind a tree.

"Umm. I would have had to find you, I suppose," Merlin blurted. Arthur had no weapons, but Merlin had no illusions that he could take him in a physical fight. And he looked dangerous. He sounded dangerous.

"Why?"

Merlin frowned nervously. "What do you mean, 'why'? Do you think I'd leave you there with what that boy said?"

Some tension in Arthur seemed to ease at that. "I have NO idea what you're talking about, Merlin. As usual," the prince muttered. "What boy? And oh, while you're explaining things," he added sarcastically, "would you care to explain the glowing eyes and magic spells?"

At least he wasn't being attacked outright, Merlin thought. He could explain. He had been preparing for this moment since the first day he arrived in Camelot - only now that the time had arrived the words seemed inadequate.

"There was a boy back there who told me about his master's, um, unpleasant habits with prisoners. It didn't seem like a good idea to let him get us back to his castle," Merlin said, tackling the easier part of the question. He finished in a rush. "And I only use the magic to _help_ you!"

Arthur sighed. He rubbed his eyes with weary hands.

"Just... come on and get on Hermes behind me will you? I don't want them to find us here."

Merlin followed him to the horse, scrambling up behind him and Arthur guided them deeper into the woodland, away from the road. Merlin sent a small wind behind them to blow away the hoofprints.

When darkness fell they stopped. There was no food and they had lost all of the gear that Merlin had been carrying on his horse, but they still had the bedroll tied to Arthur's saddle and his water-skin. Not to mention their lives and, Merlin considered uneasily, such virtue as they still possessed.

In Merlin's case this was quite a lot, considering, but he thought that Arthur might have had more experience. Not that it would have helped under the circumstances.

"Shall I build a fire, sire?" Merlin asked.

Arthur considered. The weather was cool, but Winter had not yet actually set in. The fire would protect them from all predators but the ones they feared.

"No," he decided. "Better not."

After that there was nothing to do but divide up the blankets from the bedroll, sit in the dark and wait for morning, Merlin leaning against one tree, Arthur at least three feet away against another.

Merlin remembered how it had been last night, a fire burning close by, full bellies and the two of them curled up cosily in their bedrolls side by side laughing at a story Merlin had been telling about the misadventures of the second cook.

"So, what did this boy say that had you in such a panic?" Arthur enquired over the quiet rustles of the night. He was very still as Merlin told him.

"I... see," he said eventually. "You think he was telling you the truth? Is there a spell?"

"No - well probably - but he just... he wasn't trying to scare me, just warn me," Merlin said weakly.

Merlin was half-dozing against his tree when Arthur spoke again.

"I've never known a sorcerer who wasn't trying to kill me."

He didn't say it as if it required an answer, but Merlin needed to give him one. "I'm your servant, Arthur. Always."

After a moment, because he was getting cold and Arthur knew about his magic anyway, he cast a spell to keep them both warm. Arthur didn't move a muscle as the magic syllables rolled off his manservant's tongue, but the hiss of his breath as the warmth surrounded him was clearly audible.

"Useful," he said, but Merlin wasn't entirely sure that his voice hadn't shaken.

Merlin had walked a long way that day and had been very frightened for most of it. He fell asleep moments later, only to dream uneasily of Arthur holding a flaming sword and telling Merlin that he couldn't suffer a witch to live.

"You'll just try to kill me, you know..." Arthur said with utter certainty, and tossed the sword in that little showy twirl he always did. The crowd roared its appreciation as Merlin tried to explain that he would _never_; that _Merlin_ was the one in danger of being killed.

* * *

Arthur shook him awake at first light. Merlin stared up at him, a dim figure against the trees.

"I thought you might leave me in the night," he said. _Or kill me_ he thought.

"Apparently not," said Arthur, deadpan. Which meant that the thought had occurred to him too.

"You can leave me if you like," Merlin said. "I can go to Ealdor - your father's laws don't apply there."

Neither of them was very good with words. It had probably been the wrong thing to say. Merlin squinted through the pale misty air, but Arthur made no sign.

Merlin waited.

"I don't know what to say!" Arthur burst out. "I don't know what to think!"

Merlin smiled anxiously. "Oh. Alright then." He rose to his feet, wincing at the bruises he hadn't felt yesterday, but which were now letting him know that he had been in a fight and slept cold on the ground.

Arthur just stood there, staring at him as if he were seeing a stranger, so Merlin led Hermes down to the little stream for water before they set off again. The poor beast was used to warm stables and oats, but at least he was better fed than his master and his servant.

"Camelot then?" Merlin said as he picked his way back up to Arthur again, bridle in hand. Hermes nuzzled his shoulder and Merlin absentmindedly patted his nose until it was time to help Arthur into the saddle.

Arthur had to be bruised too, but he made no sign. He didn't invite Merlin into the saddle this time but turned the horse's head west and set off at a slow walk which Merlin could match on foot.

* * *

It took them three days to get home, and for the whole of that time Arthur never slept until Merlin was already sleeping; he woke before Merlin and he kept his distance at all times. They didn't talk beyond the absolute necessities.

As Merlin followed Hermes' brown, swishing tail for hour upon hour his thoughts were not pleasant. At this time of year there were still some fruits and nuts on the trees, which Merlin gathered as he walked, but they were both hungry all the time nevertheless and Merlin's thoughts were as fevered as Arthur's demeanour was cold. Vivid images came to him of what could have happened - of Arthur, straight and proud, refusing to bend to Sir Malvent's will; of Merlin's own pointless death; of Arthur left without Merlin's protection, suffering God-knew-what while Uther dickered for ransom.

How many captives had returned home from Sir Malvent's grasp maimed in spirit and shamed into silence? Arthur would take his knights back there and clean out that foul nest, Merlin knew, but it was too late for some.

And still Arthur was cold, silent and untrusting. Merlin was left alone with his thoughts.

On the third afternoon Camelot came into sight and Merlin stopped walking.

Arthur was twenty yards ahead before he noticed and turned Hermes around to come back.

"Are you coming?" he asked impatiently.

"Should I?"

Arthur thought, as the horse shifted restlessly under him, but as the time dragged on Merlin knew what the answer was going to be. He couldn't bear to hear it. It seemed better to turn away and climb a nearby boulder, looking out over the green forest into the clear blue sky to where pale turrets soared to heaven.

To his left the sound of slow hoof beats faded into the distance, leaving only the natural sounds of the woods behind. Birds called and a slight breeze rustled the leaves of the trees.

A ladybird landed on Merlin's wrist, climbed slowly to his elbow and flew away.

From the southwest a raft of clouds blew across the sky, then flushed golden and pink as the sun began to set. The boulder held the day's heat quite well at first but as it cooled the still figure atop it began to shiver. At last, when the sun was just a slight gilding on the horizon, Merlin dropped his head to his knees and sobbed.

* * *

It took Merlin a moment to realise that he had company on the boulder. Arthur sat down beside him, hip to hip, and the warmth of the slight contact was more welcome than Merlin had ever realised it could be.

He turned his face away from Arthur, ashamed of his weakness, but after days of self-control, of hunger and rejection and endless fear, he couldn't seem to stop, and Arthur was saying something so he should listen but he still couldn't stop the deep, broken sobs welling up.

"I'm _sorry_ Merlin," Arthur was saying, again and again. "I shouldn't have left you."

And Merlin had to answer that, because Arthur had a perfect right to be angry at him for lying to him _every single day_ since the day they met, for concealing something so fundamentally contrary to everything that Arthur had been brought up to believe.

But when he said so, turning to face his prince, stammering out the words individually between the slow sobs which were still forcing themselves painfully up though his chest, Arthur's face held a self-loathing that Merlin hadn't seen since the unicorn had been reborn.

"I should have trusted you, and I didn't," he said, his eyes dark pools of shadow. "You saved me from Sir Malvent, you served me on the way home and then I abandoned you. So you see, you were _right_ to lie to me. How can I condemn you for not trusting me with your secret, when I _abandoned_ you because of it?"

And now, finally, the sobs had stopped wracking Merlin's chest.

"You're here," Merlin said, and he meant, '_Why_ are you here?' He meant, 'You came back for me.'

Arthur leaned into him tentatively, a slight pressure against hip and shoulder. "I got to the bottom of the hill and I stopped. I could see the walls of Camelot, but I couldn't seem to move, so I tied Hermes to a tree and came back."

"It's been hours." Merlin said blankly.

"I was over there most of the time," Arthur said, waving his hand in the general direction from which he had left. "I just didn't know what to say to you."

Merlin turned to look at him, wiping his face on his sleeve. "You've been standing a few feet away from me this whole time?"

Arthur grimaced. "Yeah. I guess. I just... You're a sorcerer."

Merlin stared at him incredulously.

"Want to come home with me?" Arthur asked.

Home sounded good. "Yeah. No executing me?"

Arthur shrugged. "I wasn't going to _execute_ you."

"I'm a _sorcerer_ and you haven't... you haven't even really _looked_ at me since you found out."

"But I wouldn't have you _executed_." Arthur wrinkled his forehead earnestly. "It would be like... executing Morgana. I want to strangle her sometimes but she's mine to protect."

Merlin breathed out a sigh of deep relief. "Good. That's good. ... Wait - I'm yours to protect?"

"Of course," Arthur said seriously. "Until the day you die, remember?"

Merlin smiled at him, finally believing it. "Alright then. Until the day I die."

It seemed perfectly natural, after that, for Arthur to put one cool, trembling hand on his cheek and lean in to fit their mouths together. Merlin sighed against his lips, tasting salt and Arthur.

He tasted like destiny.


End file.
